A World Alone
by cordyyceps
Summary: Max can't even begin to think about what Chloe must be feeling. Still, she squeezes the hand woven within her own tight, trying to pour whatever of herself she has left into Chloe.


They sit on the edge of the shore and watch the waves ebb ever so slightly before tentatively kissing the earth again.

There's nobody at the beach— it's no wonder, it's the middle of December and a slight layer of snow covers the sand, leaving it virtually impossible maneuver on. Max turns around to look at the shaky set of tracks that led them there. This is definitely _not_ what she had in mind for the holidays, but she can't really complain.

Max feels slight heat at her side where Chloe is sitting as humanly close as she possibly can, eyes deadset on the sea ahead. Max watches the way her eyelashes flutter at each dropping snowflake that reaches, and the way her breath materializes in real time. Chloe's awe and wonder is all too colorful, contrasting easily against the bleak grey sky and the numbness of Max's heart.

 _She's here. She's alive. We're okay_. Max breathes out, trying to focus on the present moment and the snowfall ahead.

It's been a long time since Max has felt something other than a mixture of guilt and pure emptiness, and for the past two months since the storm she's felt the weight of her decision rip every possible speck of hope and instead replaced it with the feeling of nothing. A nothing that she can't shake off.

Still, the body next to her makes her want to feel otherwise and she digs the heels of her feet deeper into the sand, hoping to feel more steady. The sand however, proves to be just as unsteady as she is.

Feeling a slight bump to the side snaps her back to reality, and Max realizes that Chloe is looking right at her, blue eyes like daggers cutting into her so easily. "You ok?" Chloe says, eyes intent on Max.

Chloe always knows how to cut deep.

Max knows that Chloe isn't really asking, so she just nods a little, leaning into the deadweight at her side. "Can we go? I'm, uh, a little cold."

"You got it, partner." Chloe lets out a chuckle so genuine that it makes the heat rise to Max's cheeks. "I can tell you're cold because your nose is fuckin' _red_." Chloe must be proud because she's smiling the entire time she lifts herself up, then extends a smug hand to Max, wiggling her fingers for dramatic effect.

Max wants to wipe the smirk off her face, but instead chooses to entertain Chloe, grasping the hand in front of her. "Shut up."

Chloe smiles even more as she pulls Max up, and quickly moves her arms around Max's waist, who immediately feels herself lean into Chloe's touch. "Ah, it was cute, you don't have to worry, dork."

They bump hips along unstable ground while walking back to Chloe's truck.

Max thinks about the tracks they're leaving behind.

They don't talk the entire drive back to Portland—There's something in the snowfall that reminds Max of Christmas when she was 12.

Sleepover at Chloe's which ended in the two pulling an all nighter. They had watched the gently snowfall as the sky slowly beamed with color. It matched how they both felt.

Opening presents by the Price's fireplace once Max's parents showed up.

A Snowball fight in the backyard that led to a couple of bumps and bruises, courtesy of Chloe, who didn't know her own strength at the time.

Joyce's homemade cooking while William cracked jokes with everyone. Max swears she can hear the laughter still reverberating in her head.

She was always warm.

The memory quickly fades, but Max can't shake the feeling that she's the reason they're spending Christmas alone this year. That she's the reason Chloe won't be able to experience Christmas—anything with her family again.

She now feels cold, wincing at the thought while quickly ripping her eyes from the road and to her lap. She hates how selfish she feels.

Chloe must notice the action because she rushes to find Max's hand, holding it tight, and keeping it steady.

Max can't even begin to think about what Chloe must be feeling. Still, she squeezes the hand woven within her own tight, trying to pour whatever of herself she has left into Chloe.

Max watches as Chloe's head bops slightly to low hum of music, and home has never felt so close than in that moment.

Once they make it back to their studio apartment, Max finds herself crawling into bed in a unsuccessful attempt trying to calm her nerves that set in the second her feet touch ground again.

The rush of anxiety that washes over her is familiar and relentless.

Chloe quickly joins Max, smelling like a combination of cigarette smoke and cheap 99 cent chicken. A combination normally undesirable, but here is so familiar, so safe, so Chloe.

Max feels herself shaking as Chloe's arms envelope her, pulling her in tight.

"Hey," Chloe says, voice smooth and soothing against Max, "I'm here; I'm here, ok Max?" Chloe says, grasping Max's hand, guiding it to her heart. "You're ok; do you feel that?"

Chloe's heartbeat is unmistakably rapid against Max's hands. She's nervous, Max realizes, but her whole demeanor says otherwise. Still, Max can't help but feel her own heart echo Chloe's. The feeling is overwhelming and she can't control the sobs that begin to escape.

She grips Chloe with all the strength she can muster. She doesn't feel powerful.

"I'm _tired,_ Chloe." The words pour out a lot rougher than Max expects them to, but Chloe doesn't flinch. Max swears she can see her strength in the dark, and she clings herself to Chloe's solid frame, hoping to feel some of that stability.

Chloe hums, taking a deep breath before squeezing Max— it looks like she's searching for the right words to say. The silence pounds in Max's head.

"Here we're, uh, gonna do something really fucking cheesy and gay, but we gotta keep talking." Chloe coughs, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice that is evidently present, "My, um, my mom used to do this shit when I was 10 and uh-" her voice cracks, "I used to fuckin hate it—but I think it'll help."

Max feels the guilt rip through her at the thought of Joyce, and it's then she realizes the quiet strength that Chloe possesses. Max nods against Chloe's chest before pulling back to look at her, after all, this is the least she can do.

"Okay, well, uh, we're gonna say the best and worst part about our day—And trust me, I know how stupid this sounds, but, I feel like it'll help." Chloe smiles a bit, eyes steady against Max's, "And I promise I won't say that shitty gas station chicken was the worst part of my day, deal?"

And Max smiles too, "Deal."

"Good. Uh I guess I'll start. Don't laugh, Caulfield, cuz if you do, you're in for it." Chloe says, pulling her arms back to wiggle her fingers. Max thinks she's insinuating a tickle attack. Chloe returns her arms, pulling Max in a bit before saying, "The best part of my day was um, walking through that mushy ass snow on the beach." Chloe looks away, trying to hide a blush, "Mostly because I know that if I was by myself I'd fall and each shit, but I didn't, because you were there with me."

Chloe pauses, swallowing a breath, "Goddamn it, that was _so_ fucking gay."

Max pulls a hand to Chloe's cheek that's practically burning, "It really was, but thank you." Max, shuts her eyes for a moment, trying to feel the courage that seems to come so easily to Chloe. "Um, in the car, when you—when you noticed I wasn't doing so well, you grabbed my hand. I just, I hadn't felt strong in a while, and you just knew that, and you still wanted to help." Max nods, "That was my favorite part of the day, for sure."

Max sees Chloe smile before pulling herself in for a chaste kiss, lips lingering a bit against Max's. They've kissed before, but this is the first time Max has felt her heart keep up with Chloe.

Chloe pulls away, smile faltering a bit, "Okay, now for the harder part." Chloe shuffles a bit, and Max feels their fingers intertwine, "The worst part about my day was probably thinking I wasn't worth seeing the beach, and um not worth having the experience, especially if—" Chloe takes a sharp inhale of breath before squeezing Max's hand, "especially if my mom, and, and nobody else gets to."

"Oh Chloe." Max pulls her hand away from Chloe's and returns it to her face, who leans instantly into Max's touch. She could give anything to make Chloe feel worth saving. "I'm always going to choose you."

"Ah, fuck. I'm crying, aren't I?" Chloe wipes her eyes, trying to pull herself together. "I'm worried that I'm never going to stop feeling this way. I guess, ironically um, I'm afraid of time."

Arcadia Bay was destroyed, but it was nothing in comparison to their spirits.

Max can see how many times Chloe has had to put herself back together and here, so seamlessly the veil falls, revealing a being just as broken as herself. Still, Chloe's strength is just as evident before as it is now.

"The worst part about my day was feeling like a failure, that I'm selfish—that even after I got what I wanted, I'm still not happy. I guess—I guess I'm worried that I'm never going to stop feeling guilty, or selfish." Max feels her voice crack the entire time. She doesn't cry, feeling drained from sobbing earlier, but she does feel lighter, vocalizing something that wears on her conscience constantly.

They don't say anything for a while but lay amongst the words they shared together.

Chloe closes her eyes and nods for a bit, "We're fucked up, aren't we?" She opens her eyes and stares at Max again, "Still, I um, feel like this helped. Maybe not right now, but it might, later, who knows."

Max grasps at Chloe's hand and guides it to her heart, which is pounding hard against her small frame. "I think it did too."

Max _wants_ to be hopeful, _wants_ to believe that they're both worth more than what they're feeling, she _wants_ to heal. "Chloe?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we kiss again?" Max says, heat rising to her cheeks.

Chloe laughs, rolling her eyes, " _God,_ Caulfield." Still, Chloe doesn't hesitate when she moves forward, pressing their lips together.

Max thinks about the tracks they're leaving behind.


End file.
